


Obligatory Coffee Shop AU

by QuantumFeat72



Series: Humans Humaning [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Comedy, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Attempted Suicide, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, No Smut, Non-Binary Chara, Non-Binary Frisk, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Comedy, Teenage Chara, Teenage Frisk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9949667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuantumFeat72/pseuds/QuantumFeat72
Summary: “I’m not flirting,” you lie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I realized I've never written a shipfic before and decided that had to be rectified. So I decided to try my hand at the standard coffee shop au.  
> For once I'm actually posting this as I write, so who knows how frequent updates will be. I'm not even really sure where I'm going with this but anyway here take it.

[Chara]

Albeit somewhat reluctantly, you follow your brother into the little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop/bakery he’s been eyeing from your route to school for the past three weeks.  You have twenty minutes to spare before you have to get to school - time you would much rather spend asleep, but Asriel is nothing if not stubborn.  You don’t know what you’d actually _want_ in a coffee shop, but the cozy-looking sign is less than promising.

The interior smells of cinnamon, yeast, and, surprisingly enough, coffee.  There aren’t very many tables, and there’s only a couple of patrons scattered about.  Pop music drifts quietly from the speakers.  You stare at the menu for a while, taking in the various cutesy names for various drinks, hoping they at least have a significant amount of caffeine in them.

A suspiciously cheery kid smiles at you from behind the counter.  You glare at them, taking notice of their name tag.  It’s unusually large, actually, so that you can read it even from where you stand, and there’s a handwritten message under their name that you can just make out.

_Hello, my name is Frisk,_

_and my pronouns are they/them._

You have to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot.  That kid must be so damn _trusting_.  it hardly seems to coincide with a job in customer service.

Asriel approaches the counter before you can decide what you want and orders something you don’t hear.  Frisk takes his order and then looks at you expectantly.  You squint at the menu again, remembering that you actually need caffeine today.

“What do you have that could kill a small elephant?” you ask, not wanting to say the names of any of these drinks out loud.

Frisk, although startled, appears to legitimately consider your question.  “Do you mean from the caffeine, or are you asking if we carry arsenic?”

“Uh,” you look back at the menu in confusion, “do you _actually_ carry arsenic?”

Frisk just _smiles_ at you, then presses some buttons on the register and says, “That’ll be three ninety eight.”

“ _What_ ’ll be three ninety eight??”

“A drink that could kill a small elephant,” Frisk replies cooly, grin widening.

“Are you _serious???”_

Frisk’s smile falls suddenly.  “What?” they ask innocently.  “Are you scared your stomach is weaker than a baby elephant’s?”

“Wh- I’m not _scared!_ ”

“Good!” they chirp, smile returning.

You pull out your wallet and slam the money on the counter before they can embarrass you any further.  You can feel Asriel’s grin on the back of your neck.  Frisk takes the money and cheerfully begins making your drinks.  Asriel puts an arm around you.  “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he whispers.

You shove him away from you and stomp towards the nearest empty table.  Asriel brings the drinks a few minutes later and places one in front of you.  “And you used to make fun of _me_ for being gullible,” he says.

“Shut up,” you mutter.  “That kid’s a master of deceit.”

“They never actually _said_ it’s poisonous.”

“Exactly!  The best lie is the one that isn’t a lie at all.”  You turn your attention to the drink he set in front of you.  At this point, you almost hope it _is_ poisonous.

You glance at the kid behind the counter, who isn’t making an effort to hide the fact that they’re watching you.  You maintain eye contact while chugging the entire drink at once.  It’s scalding hot, but other than that it’s actually pretty damn good.  It tastes of chocolate and caramel, with a hint of cinnamon.  Frisk’s smile only widens when you slam the cup indignantly on the table and grin triumphantly back at them.

* * *

“And you didn’t think I could handle it,” you tell them on the way out.

“Give it a couple hours,” they reply coyly, winking.

* * *

Lunchtime finds you and Asriel in the library and you have regrets.  “Azzy I’m going to throw up.”

“Try not to do it on my homework.”

You look up at him and make your eyes as wide as possible.  “I can hear my _blood_ , Azzy.”

“This is your own fault, Chara.”

“You need to take me to the hospital.  I think I’ve actually been poisoned.”

“That changes nothing.”

“Betrayaaaaal.”  You groan loudly.

“Shh.”

“I’m DYING, Asriel.”

“Well, die quieter.  I need to study.”

You slam your head back on the table.  “I’m never going back there again.”

“Aw, come on,” Azzy chides.  “I know you think that barista is cute~”

You scan the table briefly for something to smack him with, but the motion reminds you of your nausea so you return your face to the table and flip him off instead.  “I’ve been poisoned, Azzy,” you say, quieter now, “It doesn’t matter if they’re cute.”

* * *

[Frisk]

You set up shop the next morning with an extra spring in your step, wondering if that person from before will come by again.  You should really learn their name, you think.  (And their pronouns, for that matter.  They seemed to make a point of presenting as androgynously as possible, but maybe that’s just you projecting.  Still, it hadn’t slipped by your notice when they smiled at your nametag.)

The first customers to enter, as usual, are Sans and his brother.  You aren’t sure why they insist on checking on you at work every morning when you literally live in the same apartment, but Sans can never be bothered to wake up in time to see you off.

Why he considers this _easier_ is anyone’s guess.

“FRISK!” shouts Papyrus, vaulting over the counter and picking you up in an aggressive hug.  “HOW IS MY LITTLE SIBLING ON THIS FINE MORNING?”

You grin to yourself at being called _sibling_.  You don’t think you’ll ever get used to that.  “I’m great,” you reply when he puts you down.  Sans shuffles over to the counter.  The cheap surgical mask he always wears has a smile drawn on it in magic marker, but you can see the edges curling up in a genuine smile underneath.

“OF COURSE!” replies Papyrus, striking a pose, “ONE SO OFTEN IN THE PRESENCE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS SHALL NEVER FEEL DOWN!  OUR BRILLIANT PLAN IS A BONAFIDE SUCCESS!  NYEH HEH HEH”

“don’t you mean ‘bone-afied’?” adds Sans, basking in his brother’s subsequent frustration.  “oh, hey kid,” he turns to you and pulls an energy drink out of his coat pocket, “did you want another one of these?  i noticed one was missing from my stash yesterday.”

“Oh, I didn’t actually drink it,” you tell him.  “A customer asked for a drink that could kill a small elephant, so I brewed it with that instead of water.”

You take in the faces of the brothers one at a time, grinning.  Papyrus looks horrified, but Sans is _beaming_.  “oh my god,” he whispers.  “papyrus, our lil’ sib is all grown up.  they’re pulling pranks on unsuspecting customers.  i’m so proud.”

“IS THAT SAFE...?” asks Papyrus.

“They looked about my age,” you tell him, shrugging, “so I’m guessing they have a pretty high tolerance.  Besides, I told them it was poisoned and they drank it anyway.”

Sans starts laughing.

“DOES MUFFET KNOW?” asks Papyrus.

“No,” you admit, “but I doubt she would care.  I mean, she made a point of giving me permission to _stab_ anyone who misgenders me.”

“I ASSUMED SHE WAS JOKING ABOUT THAT.”

“So did I.  Then I found the broadsword under the counter.”

Sans’ laughter cuts off for a moment before continuing even louder.  You laugh along, watching as Papyrus fights back a smile.

The door chimes and Papyrus vaults back to the other side of the counter so you can greet the customers.  After a few minutes, the brothers purchase a donut each and head off to Papyrus’s job at the police station and whatever it is Sans does for a living.

* * *

About an hour into your shift, the tall white haired boy from before walks in and smiles at you, reading the menu for a while before walking over.  You greet him with a smile, hiding your disappointment at seeing him alone.

“Where’s your friend?” you find yourself asking while you make his drink.

“Sibling, actually,” he corrects politely, “and they’re probably sulking somewhere.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, trying to make your concern more prominent in your voice than your joy at learning the person’s pronouns are the same as yours.

The boy rolls his eyes.  “Surprisingly enough, asking for the most caffeinated drink you have wasn’t the smartest decision on their part.”

“Oh no, are they okay?” you ask, speaking a lot faster than you meant to.  “They seemed like the kind of person who would have a really high tolerance, I didn’t mean for them to actually get sick.”

“They’re fine,” he says, “Chara always overreacts to stuff like this.”

You know he means for that to be comforting, but you still feel bad.  After handing him his drink, you grab a donut from the display and give it to him.  “Would you give them this for me?  As an apology?”

He looks surprised, but takes it anyway and smiles.  “Sure,” he says.  “I’ll make sure they get it.”

* * *

[Chara]

When you sit next to Asriel for first period, he plops a paper bag on your desk without looking up from his homework.  You open it, a little suspicious, and see a donut inside.  “You got me a donut?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No, actually that’s from the barista.  They felt pretty bad about making you sick yesterday so they gave it to me for free.”

You look back at the donut, surprised, before your stomach rudely reminds you that you hadn’t had time for breakfast that morning.  “Did they poison this one, too?” you ask bitterly, taking a bite before he can answer.

It’s a monstrosity of a donut, covered in chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles, but you have to admit it tastes pretty good.  The chocolate is baked into the donut itself, not just thrown on top at the last minute, and it’s a little less sweet than donuts normally are, the sugar taking a back seat to the chocolate.

Did Asriel tell them you like chocolate?  That traitor.  He’s probably giving away all your weaknesses.  You’ll be dead by the end of the month, or else in a chocolate induced sugar coma.  You grumble, attempting to toss the wrapper in the trash from across the room and missing by three feet.

Asriel glares at you until you stand up to retrieve it.

* * *

The next day, You follow Asriel into the store under the pretense of wanting to chew the smartass barista out for poisoning your coffee.  That plan goes out the window as soon as you make eye contact with the poor idiot, who _beams_ at you from across the room as soon as they see you enter.  Asriel gives you a knowing smile and you glare at him before walking up to the counter.

“You came back!” chirps the barista, bouncing up and down behind the counter.  They stop after a moment and lean against it, expression falling slightly.  “I’m really sorry about the other day.  I didn’t mean for you to get sick.”

You open your mouth to say something mean, but before you can you notice their expression.  They look so vulnerable, half-frowning at you from behind the ribbon tied in their hair that’s falling in their face and _shit they’re cute_.

Your face starts to feel warm and you force yourself to look away.  “Don’t worry about it,” you mutter.  Frisk’s smile returns full force  and you hear your brother walking up behind you.  “So what do you have that doesn’t have any caffeine in it at all?”

“Well, we have like five different kinds of hot chocolate, some herbal teas...”

“Give me the chocolatey-est hot chocolate you have.”

Frisk smiles and rings you up, and you leave to find a table before your brother can embarrass you again.

“You are the most tsundere person I have ever met,” teases Asriel, placing a cup of chocolatey goodness in front of you.

“Shut up,” you mutter, blowing on the surface before taking a sip.  It doesn’t disappoint, sadly.  It’s just sweet enough to take the edge off the bitterness in the chocolate without overpowering it.  It’s pure bliss.  You scowl at it.

“It’s not like I _like_ you or anything, baka,” Asriel mocks.  You’re tempted to throw your drink in his face, but that would be _such_ a waste of good chocolate.  You flip him off instead.  He laughs.  “Oh, by the way,” he adds, tone turning conspiratorial, “they wrote something on your cup.”

Your face gets hot again, but you turn your cup around to see something written on the side, unfathomably neat.

It’s a phone number.

* * *

[Frisk]

You watch Chara turn the cup around to look at your number and smile when their face turns bright red.  They look up at you.  You wink at them.  Flustered, they look back down at the cup and after a moment, pull out their phone and start tapping it.  Your phone buzzes.  You pull it out to see a text from an unknown number.

*Seriously??

Grinning like an idiot, you add the number to your contacts and text back.

*Why not?

*When I asked you about poison and elephants I wasn’t expecting your reaction to be HITTING ON ME!

*Your face is bright red right now.  It’s adorable.

*Did my brother put you up to this??  I bet he told you to give me chocolate too.

*Nah, I just figured.  I mean, who doesn’t like chocolate?

*Heathens.

You stifle a laugh.  The doorbell dings and you put your phone away to greet a customer.  Halfway through their order you feel your phone buzz again, and you take it out when you’re done to see another text from Chara.

*How old are you, anyway?

*15.  You?

*16.  Shouldn’t you be in school right now?  When does your shift end?

*I could ask the same of you, but no.  
*I’m working on getting a GED.  Long story.  
*What’s your excuse?

*We still have like five minutes.  I’m never late.

*You will be if you keep ignoring your drink to text me.

*I’m NEVER late.

Despite the tone of their text, they do start drinking their chocolate a lot faster.  They leave a couple minutes later, and you guess that if their school starts on the hour, they’ll have exactly three minutes to be in class, ready to go.  You wonder if they were being sarcastic.

* * *

You and Chara continue texting on and off for the rest of the day.  You know you’re probably distracting them from school, but they’re distracting you from work, so it’s even.  You’re wiping down a table around 3:30 when the door chimes again and you turn to greet...

Chara, who looks a little awkward standing in the doorway staring at you.  You smile, finishing your work quickly and returning to the counter.  “Twice in one day,” you remark.  “Could it be Grump McGrumperson has a soft spot for lil’ old me?”

“I-” they raise a hand to object, but stop themself.  “I just wanted to say hi without my idiot brother mocking me for it.”

You laugh a little, resting your head on your hands.  “Well, hello then.”

Before Chara can say anything else, a voice interrupts from the kitchen.  “Frisk, dearie~”  You turn to see Muffet sashaying into the room.  “What have I told you about flirting with the customers?”

“I’m not flirting,” you lie.  “This is just a friendly conversation, between friends.  Flirting would be like...” You think for a second before making finger guns.  “Hey Chara, are your legs made of nutella?  Because-”

Before you can finish, Muffet places a hand on your shoulder with a smile that says, _I’m going to eat you alive if you finish that sentence._   “Why don’t you take over dishwashing duty for a bit?” she asks.  It isn’t a question.  You hide your disappointment behind a smile and wave to Chara before heading into the kitchen.

Before you start working on the dishes, you pull out your phone and send them a text.

*Because I’d love to spread them ;)

Maybe it’s a little too sexual a pickup line, but it was all you could remember on such short notice.  You put your phone away and get to work, not expecting a reply.

Ten minutes later, your phone buzzes.

*I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.  
*But as long as we’re definitely not flirting,  
*Are you free on Saturday?

*After 3, yeah.  
*Meet me here.

*Great.  I’ll see you then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole the broadsword under the counter joke from the webcomic Questionable Content, which is pretty much just one big coffee shop U. I didn't come up with the pickup line either, but idk who did.


	2. Chapter 2

[Chara]

“Asriel?” you ask Friday afternoon, lying on your bed and staring discontentedly at the ceiling while he burns the practice worksheets for the test he took that morning.

“Yeah?” he replies, keeping a careful eye on the fire.

“Where do you take someone on a first date?”

He loses interest in his ritual for a moment, grinning obnoxiously at you.  “You already asked them out?”

“No.  I’m speaking purely hypothetically.  Don’t look at me like that.”

He laughs, but returns his gaze to the fire.  “MTT Resort, hands down.  You’ll have to book it like a week in advance, though.  When’s your date?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Eesh.”  He adds another paper to the fire and pokes it with a stick, making sure it stays in its bowl.  “Grillby’s, then.”

“Burgers and Fries?  Really?”

“Ugh, what other restaurants even ARE there in this town?”

“It doesn’t have to be a restaurant.  We could do a picnic?  Picnics are romantic, right?”

“Not for a first date.  First dates are ALWAYS awful.  If you go to a restaurant you can at least blame it on someone else.”

“Something that doesn’t involve food, then.  I’m supposed to meet them at three, it won’t even be dinnertime.”

Asriel balls up another paper and tosses it into the fire.  “You could see a movie.”

“There are no good movies.”

“Yeah, this time of year is pretty slow.”

“No, I mean, Period.  There are never good movies.”

He turns to look at you again.  “I thought you liked that one horror flick.”

You shrug.  “It was fun to mock.”

He sighs, balling up another work sheet to add to the flame.  “What do you even know about this person?  What are their interests?”

You narrow your eyes at the ceiling.  “I have no idea.”

“You are making this extremely difficult.  Go ask Mom.”

“Are you mad?  She can’t know I have a date.”

“Dad, then.”

“That’s even worse,” you groan.

He rolls his eyes.  You can’t _see_ his eyes, but he rolls them, you’re sure of it.  “Why don’t you bring them to our D &D campaign?”

“That’s not ‘till Sunday.  Also, nerd shit is like, third date territory.”

“You could go to MTT Resort and threaten to stab people if they don’t let you make a reservation.”

“And ‘romantically’ get myself banned for life.  That sounds like a great plan, Asriel.”

“I’m out of ideas.  You’re SOL, Chara.”

“Wow.  Thanks, Asriel.”

* * *

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yes, Chara?” Asgore looks up from his paperwork to greet you.

“I was wondering, for no reason in particular... What did you and Mom do on your first date?”

He smiles, setting his pen down and motioning for you to take a seat.  “It was a charity fundraiser at a local library,” he starts.  “Your mother and I had each made plans to go separately, and decided at the last minute to make it a date.  It was... perhaps not my smoothest act of courtship,” he chuckles, “asking her to join me for bingo night.”

You stifle a laugh.  “Seriously?”

“Yes, yes, but we had a swell time!  The important thing is the person you are with, not what you are doing with them.”

“Heh, thanks, Dad.”

* * *

[Frisk]

“What do you wear on a date?” you ask no one in particular, leaning in the doorframe of your bedroom and watching Papyrus lose to Undyne at Mario Kart.

“the same clothes you always wear,” says Sans from the kitchen table.

“WHAT? NO,” says Papyrus.  “YOU MUST WEAR EXTRA SPECIAL CLOTHING TO SHOW YOU CARE!  LIKE YOU DID ON OUR DATE!!”

“I was just wearing normal clothes on our date.”

“HM?  BUT YOU HAD THAT BANDAGE, AND THE TORN JACKET.  IT WAS A VERY ENDEARING FASHION STATEMENT.”

“You can’t just tear a hole in your jacket,” supplies Undyne.  “It has to be something with FINESSE.  Do you wear dresses?”

“I have one, I think...”

“Let me see!”  Undyne pauses the game and springs to her feet before barreling into your room.  She digs through your closet until she finds the dress in question.  “PERFECT!” she proclaims, throwing it on the bed and turning back to you.  “But the MOST important thing is to ACCESSORIZE!  Scarfs!  Bracelets!  Hats!  The longer it takes to put on, the better!”

You smile politely as she laughs maniacally, making a mental note not to ask her for advice again.

* * *

You end up arriving at work that morning wearing the dark blue dress Undyne picked out and a straw hat Papyrus insisted on.  Besides that, you opted against accessorizing too much.  You need to survive work in this outfit, after all.

Sans and Papyrus appear in the morning like clockwork, but Sans doesn’t leave when Papyrus heads off to work.  It’s a busy morning, so you don’t have a chance to ask him about it until halfway through your shift.

“what?” he asks, pulling his mask down to take a sip of his coffee.  “don’t i get to meet the person who’s captured the affections of my dear little sibling?”

“Not yet,” you protest.  “They’re really self conscious.  You’ll make them uncomfortable.”

“hey, chill.  it’s not like i’m gonna follow you or anything.  i just wanna meet ‘em before you head out.”

A customer chooses that moment to enter, and you sigh, returning to the counter.  When you get the chance, you send a text to Chara.

*Fair warning, my brother found out I have a date tonight and is insisting on meeting you.

*You have a brother?

*Two.  My other brother has a job.

*Gotcha.  Should I be concerned about meeting him?

*No, just... he can be a little intimidating.  Just be prepared.

Chara doesn’t reply immediately, and you think about following up with some kind of reassurance but you think that would just make matters worse.  Your phone buzzes a few minutes later.

*I’m ready for anything.

* * *

[Chara]

“Why am I coming with you on your date, again?” asks Asriel as you near the block Frisk’s coffee shop is on.

“For the last time,” you tell him.  “You’re NOT coming with us.  I just need you to make sure _Frisk’s_ brother doesn’t pull some kind of terrible anime trope.”

“I haven’t met this person, but I think _I’m_ way more likely to do something like that.”

“Then this is perfect.”  You clap your hands together to punctuate your sentence, eyes wide in your best creepy smile.  “It gives you something to do besides creep.”

“Maybe we’ll team up and creep together.”

“If you do that I will be well within my rights to stab you both.”

“But if you did that, who would give you wonderful advice and help you pick out flowers?” he asks, mock disappointed.

You scowl at him as you push the door of the coffee shop open.  You spot Frisk at the counter immediately and wave at them.  They wave back, grinning, and you’re interrupted from going to greet them by a short man wearing a surgical mask with a toothy grin drawn on it in magic marker.

“you must be chara,” he says, extending a hand in greeting.

“Hi, Sans!” says Asriel before you have the chance to accept.

Frisk walks up just as you turn to say, “You two know each other?”

“Uh, yeah,” says Asriel, “He works for Dad.  I thought you had met him...?”

“You have a job?” says Frisk, looking at Sans with entirely sincere confusion.

“eh,” says Sans, retracting his offered hand, “i _used_ to work for your dad.  whole thing kinda fell apart a few years back.”

“Oh,” says Asriel, starting to look vaguely uncomfortable.

“anyways,”  Sans turns to you.  “you’re frisk’s date, right?”

“What gave it away?” you ask sarcastically, gesturing to the bouquet of golden flowers in your left hand.

“Also,” says Frisk, “it’s not a date until we leave, because I’m not allowed to flirt with customers.”

“Are customers allowed to flirt with you?” you ask, because god _damn_ Frisk looks adorable right now.  They smile up at you from under the rim of their straw hat.

“No,” says a voice from the counter, and you look over to see the creepy little woman from before.  “But if I were you, dearie, I’d be a tad more concerned about _not_ being a customer.”  Her tone is friendly _._   Her eyes say _murder_.  You exchange a glance with Asriel, who goes up to order something.

“why aren’t you allowed to flirt, anyway?” asks Sans, glancing sideways at the counter.

“Someone complained,” says Frisk, shrugging.  “Muffet says I have to learn to flirt in ways that’ll make people _buy_ more.  I’m not sure exactly how she means for me to do that...”

“Hey, it worked on me,” you say, and Frisk’s expression brightens.

“where are you two headed, anyway?” asks Sans.

“Well,” you start, remembering not to tell him your actual date plan lest he decide to follow you around.  “I was thinking, that dress looks pretty good on you,” you make finger guns at Frisk, who’s actually _blushing_ for once, “but it would look even _better_ shoved in the neck of a vodka bottle and sent flaming through my high school’s window.  Let’s fucking do it and never look back.”

There’s a moment of painfully tense silence before Frisk bursts into laughter.  Sans looks at you like he thinks you’re serious at first, but relaxes when you start laughing along.  “You just _had_ to one up me, didn’t you?” asks Frisk.

You shrug.  “It doesn’t get any _better_ than chocolate puns, but I’ve been waiting to use that one for a while,” you say, before choosing this moment to hand them the flowers.

“okay,” says Sans, and it’s hard to tell but you think he’s grinning for real under his mask.  “i’m sold.  nice catch, kid.”  He pats their head in an odd approximation of ruffling their hair through their hat.  Frisk’s grin widens just a bit, their face already half buried in the flowers.

Asriel comes back with two muffins and hands one to you.  “Why don’t you get going?” he says.  “The museum closes at six.”

You notice that Sans notices where you’re going, but there’s nothing to be done about it, you decide.  You take Frisk by the hand and exit the shop.

* * *

“So,” you ask once you’re comfortably out of earshot, “does he wear the mask _just_ for the sake of freaking people out or...?”

“No, he has a super weak immune system.  Actually, the mask was originally Papyrus’s idea.”

“Papyrus?”

“His brother.”  Frisk pauses for a second.  “My brother.  My other brother.”

“You’re adopted, huh?”

“Sort of.  I’m...” they raise their hands to make finger quotes.  “I’m an ‘emancipated minor,’ so legally speaking we’re just roommates.  Not that it _matters_ , but...”  They shrug.  “It was pretty recent.  I’m just... still getting used to it.”

“Heh, I know the feeling.  Azzy and I aren’t blood related either.”  You take the muffin out of its bag and make a pathetic attempt at tearing it in half cleanly, ending up with one small chunk of muffin separated from the rest of it.  You offer Frisk the bigger piece.  “You want some of this?”

“No thanks,” they reply, smirking a little.

You shrug and pop the smaller piece into your mouth.  It’s apple-cinnamon, you think, with a dusting of pure sugar on top.  It’s decent.  “So, let me guess,” you say after finishing.  “Your biological parents were awful, so you fucked off to Ebott, ‘climbed the mountain,’ probably met Sans in the hospital when he was getting fitted for that freaky-ass mask...”  You take another bite of muffin, watching their expression.  “Am I close?”

Frisk gives you a quizzical look.  “Climbed the mountain?”

“Yeah, you know.  _Climbed the mountain._ ”  You wave your arms around, which doesn’t appear to make matters any clearer.  “It’s a euphemism.”

“For _what?_ ”

“For...”  You scratch the back of your head, suddenly a lot less comfortable discussing this even though you’re the one who brought it up.  “For trying to kill yourself.”

“Oh.”

“I mean,” you interrupt before Frisk can say anything else, “Sometimes people just use it to mean running away, but it’s usually-”

“You’re close.”  Frisk buries their face in the flowers you gave them, looking contemplative.  “I met Papyrus first, when he caught me trying to steal from that little general store in Snowdin.”

“Hard to imagine,” you say, not meaning for them to hear you.

They do hear you, but they just shrug.  “It was food.  I was hungry.”  You nod in understanding while they keep going.  “Papyrus made me return what I took, and at first I thought that was that, but then he asked to meet my parents.”  You think you see them shudder slightly at the word.

“Oh jeez.  What did you do?”

“What I always do when I’m in a situation I don’t know how to deal with,” they reply, shrugging again.  “I flirted with him.”

You almost choke on your muffin.  “Seriously?”

Frisk grins at you.  “That’s not even the best part.”

“Yeah?  What’s that?”

“It worked.”

“Oh my god.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pickup line in this chapter is from the webcomic xkcd
> 
> AND i found the human Sans design i'm using, which i stole from a tumblr post: http://bedsafely.tumblr.com/post/134554620102/i-never-thought-i-would-draw-a-human-sans-but-a


	3. Chapter 3

[Frisk]

* * *

It’s not as though this is the first time you’ve been on a date, but the part where you’re on a date with someone you actually capital-L _Like_ is new.  Chara takes you to the natural history museum, where they try very hard not to get so wrapped up in the exhibits that they end up ignoring you.  This is partially successful.  Most of the written blurbs go over your head just a little, and you end up asking Chara about one of them, which turns into a long-winded explanation for each and every one of the places you visit.  They’re so exited.  It’s adorable.

Afterward, they bring you to a little ice cream stand with a nice view of the mountain.  They get a cone of chocolate for themself and, after some dithering on your part, rainbow sorbet for you.  You find a nice little grassy hill to sit on and plop yourself almost on top of Chara.  They don’t even make a pretense of pushing you away.

“Your turn,” you say, watching the beginnings of the sunset.

“Hm?”

“How did you meet Asriel?”

“Oh,” they take a bite of their ice cream, thinking for a moment before they respond.  “We met in preschool.”

“...And?”

“I don’t actually remember most of it.  We got pretty close, but I don’t think Mom and Dad knew how shitty my birth parents were until I...  you know.”

“Climbed the mountain?”

“Yeah.”  Chara takes another bite, thinking.  “‘Cept in my case, it was literal.”

“Really?”  You look back at the mountain, remembering the old legends about people disappearing.  Of course, it was never _true_ , you’ve heard as many true stories about people coming home after climbing it as you have rumors of the curse at this point, but people still whisper that those who did climb it came back... different.

You don’t believe in curses, but it’s hard to imagine a preschooler climbing Mt. Ebott and surviving.

“Yup,” Chara chuckles at your expression.  “Mom found me two days later and took me home.  They got social services involved.  It was a mess.”

“But it worked out,” you assert quietly.

“It did.”  Chara smiles at the mountain, leaning against you.  You find yourself smiling along.

* * *

“Hey,” you whisper about an hour after finishing your ice cream, but before either of you want to stand up, “Don’t look now, but I think we have an extra shadow.”

“What?” mutters Chara, half asleep.

“Our brothers are following us.”

“God DAMN it.”  They push themself up and look behind them, spotting the group of stalkers.  They were recently joined by Papyrus, which is how you knew they were there.  At this point, you’re more or less desensitized to Sans ‘coincidentally’ being wherever you also are.  Chara flips them off.  Asriel and Papyrus wave.  Sans gives you a thumbs-up.  Chara stands up and helps you to your feet before stomping towards them.  You follow, laughing a little.

“Have you all been following us this whole time?” Chara demands.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” says Papyrus.

“Yeah,” agrees Asriel, “It was just me and Sans until like ten minutes ago.”

“You were supposed to keep this from happening!!” Chara yells at Asriel.

“hey,” says Sans, “don’t worry about it.  what’s past is past.”

“ALSO,” says Papyrus, “I THINK IT’S TIME FOR US TO HEAD HOME.  INCLUDING FRISK.”

“yeah,” agrees Sans, “you have work tomorrow, kid.”

You check your watch for the first time in a while, and he’s right but you’re still a little disappointed.

“No,” says Chara flatly.

“pardon?” says Sans, in the tone of voice he uses when he’s about to start threatening people.

“ _YOU_ are going to leave, and _I_ am going to walk Frisk home, so we can _actually_ have five minutes to ourselves tonight.”  Chara crosses their arms to emphasize their point, and after a moment Sans relaxes.

“sure,” he says, “but its _your_ head if they don’t get home safely.”

“I never leave the house unarmed,” says Chara seriously.  “If anyone tries to hurt Frisk, I’m _ready._ ”

* * *

[Chara]

“So, uh,” Frisk nudges against you, speaking as quietly as they can.  “Were you serious about being armed?”

“Yeah,” you reply, lowering your volume to match theirs, though not quite reaching it.  “I have a knife.  It’s just a paring knife, but I know how to use it.”

Frisk smirks and you wrap an arm around them.  It’s colder than it was earlier, you notice.  Frisk shivers a little and latches onto you like a body heat vampire.  “I hope you don’t bring it to school.”

“Nah, but they can’t make a rule against scissors.”

Frisk actually laughs at that.  It’s hard to see, but you think they closed their eyes and are now letting you lead them.  It doesn’t occur to you until you’ve gone another five blocks why that might be a problem.

“Wait, where do you live?”

Frisk makes a little _snrk_ noise and points at the next left up ahead, eyes still closed.  You head in that direction, half wondering if you should point out that they’re _not even looking_.

Eventually you come upon a big, boring-looking apartment building, and Frisk reluctantly detaches themself from your side.  They smile up at you, not going in yet, and it occurs to you that you kind of want to kiss them.  You kind of really want to kiss them.  You brush their hair out of their face and wonder if it’s too early for kissing but before you can decide Frisk closes the gap for you.

It’s a short, chaste peck on the lips, and when they pull away they’re blushing harder than you’ve ever seen them blush before.  You kiss them back, lingering just a bit longer, before they wave goodbye and climb the steps toward the door.

You walk home grinning to yourself like an idiot.  Before you make it two blocks you pull out your phone and text Asriel.

*And you said first dates are always bad.

*You should be glad you have a guardian brother looking out for you. ];)

*You were the one thing that went wrong, asshole.

*You can’t say I didn’t warn you.

It’s true, but you still wish there was a middle finger emoji you could send him.

*Seriously though how long were you following us???

*Frisk’s bro is a master of stealth.  I’ve learned so much today.  
*We were watching the whole time.

*I hate you so much rn.

*Oh, btw, sorry in advance.

*Oh god,  
*What did you do??

*I MAY have let something slip to Mom & Dad...

*D:  
*What the fuck, Azzy?

*IT WAS AN ACCIDENT  
*I’M SORRY

*Oh god.  
*I’m so fucked.  
*Bury me with my chocolate.

*Stop being melodramatic, they’re probably not even gonna say anything.

*Have you MET our parents?

*Look, worst case scenario, they embarrass you in front of your datemate.  
*That was going to happen eventually anyway.  
*And it’s not like it’s going to change Frisk’s mind about you or anything.

*What if Mom doesn’t like them?

*Chara.  
*Mom is going to ADORE them.  
*You can quote me on that.  
*Just play it cool, everything’s gonna be fine.

*I don’t believe you.

*Are you calling me a liar? ]:(

*I don’t think you’re lying,  
*I just think you’re wrong.

*C’mon, sib.  
*Trust me.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, neither of your parents mention it until breakfast the next morning, when your dad says casually over a sip of golden tea, “So, what is Frisk like?”

You stab your omelette with your fork and focus a glare at Asriel.  “In a word,” you reply, the way you rehearsed, “cute.”

“They’re really quiet and sweet,” says Asriel, “but I bet they could kill someone if they wanted to.”

“Oh dear,” says Mom, laughing a little.  “Is that a trait you had been looking for...?”

“Absolutely,” you reply before Asriel can answer for you.  “I need someone who can keep up with me while I kick Asriel’s butt in D&D.”

“I’m the dungeon master,” mutters Asriel.  “You should know better than to disrespect your _god_.”

“So,” says Mom, tactfully ignoring him, “When do we get to meet them?”

* * *

[Frisk]

“So you were a scientist?” you ask Sans when he shows up at the coffee shop, this time without Papyrus since he’s already at work.  

“more of an intern, really.”

“What changed?”

“my boss knew too much.  they had to off him.”

“‘They’?”

Sans winks at you.  “the knowledge police.  can’t learn all the secrets of the universe without some consequences.  doc G and his whole inner circle were dead overnight.  well,” he lowers he voice, grinning wide under his mask.  “‘cept for me.”

You fake-gasp.  “You’ve been on the run this _whole time_?  Is _that_ why you never tell us where you are during the day or how you make your money?”

“yup.  i know too much.  they’re coming for me.”

“Well, you have to share, then.  Tell me the secrets of the universe, Sans.  _Someone_ has to know in case you ever get caught.”

“i’m never getting caught, kid.  but alright.”  He thinks for a long moment, swirling the coffee around in his mug, before raising a finger to point at nothing.  “induction is impossible, our perceptions cant be trusted, and spacetime isnt real,” he intones matter-of-factly.

* * *

Chara and Asriel come in a few hours into your shift, and Chara walks straight up to the counter and slams their hand on it.  “That drink you made the day we met,” they demand.  “Can you make it again?”

“Uh, sure?” you reply tentatively.  “I thought you got really sick last time, though.”

“It’s not for me.  _Someone_ ,” they glance pointedly behind them at no one, “is threatening to sleep through our D&D campaign _again_.  If this doesn’t work, I’m giving up on them entirely.”

You laugh a little, making a mental note to google ‘D&D’ when you get home.  “So, caffeine monstrosity for your friend, hot chocolate for you, and a golden flower tea for Asriel?” you ask.  Chara nods, and you ring them up and get started making the drinks.

Chara stays by the counter while you work, staring at the receipt.  After a minute they say, “I thought the chocolate was like a dollar less than that.”

“It usually is,” you reply, sighing.  “Muffet says I have to give you the friends-and-family markup from now on.”

“The _what_?”

“We charge extra for people who would be in the store whether they actually wanted to buy anything or not.  Hey, would you do me a favor?”

“What is it?”

You hand them a dollar from your own pocket.  “Grab an energy drink from the shop next door?  I need one for your friend’s coffee.”

* * *

When Chara returns with the drink, they’re reading the ingredients list with a concerned expression.  “I take it this wasn’t actually on the menu,” they say when they hand it to you.

“Nope.  You looked like the kind of person with a pretty high tolerance.  I hope you’re not planning on making your friend as sick as you were.”

“Nah, Blooky practically lives on the stuff.  I once swapped their coffee with decaf as a prank - they slept for 36 hours straight.”

“Really?” you ask.  Chara nods.

“Straight through Friday.  Didn’t even realize what happened until they tried to show up at school the next day.”

“Seems like they needed the sleep.”

“Maybe.  Oh, when do you get off today?”

“Time is an illusion, but... four-thirty?”

Chara pauses for a moment while you hand them their drinks.  “I’m gonna go ahead and ignore that first part.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“You wanna come over to my place tonight?  For, uh, video games and pie?”

“What sort of pie?”

“Pie!  Homemade pie.  My mom’s pie.”

Asriel rejoins Chara by the counter to interject, “Snail pie.”

“ _Snail_ pie?” you ask, bewildered.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds I promise.” mutters Chara.  Asriel laughs.

“It’s kinda like chicken pot pie,” he says.  “And Mom said she’d make butterscotch pie for dessert.”

You _do_ like butterscotch, but _snails_?  You don’t know if you trust this.  “Is it poison?” you ask Chara, trying to speak quietly enough that Asriel won’t hear you.

“Not as poisonous as this.”  Chara gestures to the caffeine monstrosity in their hand, shrugging.

“That’s fair,” you concede.

* * *

[Chara]

Frisk’s caffeinated drink does wonders for Napstablook’s energy level, and you actually manage to get some significant playtime in before Asriel decides to call it quits.  (He _does_ his homework, the fool.)

You head straight to the coffee shop, even though it’s only four, and mostly fail at not distracting Frisk from work until their shift is over.  The two of you stop by their apartment so they can drop some things off and tell their brothers where they are.  (Sans gives you a _look_ and you try very hard to ignore him.)  When you leave, they’ve acquired a skirt and a bright pink ribbon they laced through their hair.

“What are your parents like?” they ask on the way to your house.

“They’re huge dorks.”

Frisk nods minutely.  “Pie for dinner _and_ dessert...”

“Mom _lives and breathes_ pie.  She can make other things, she just never _wants_ to.”

“Never?” asks Frisk, laughing.  You shake your head.  “What about you?” they ask, “Can you make pie?”

You shrug.  “Last time I made pie Dad was bedridden for a week.”

Frisk giggles, but stops abruptly when they see your expression.  “Wait, seriously?”

“Look, I was _seven_ , okay?  I didn’t know buttercups were poisonous.”

“What, did you mistake ‘flour’ for ‘flowers’?”

“Cups of butter.”

Frisk thinks for a moment.  “Buttercups.  Okay.”

After a few minutes of silence, Frisk takes your hand in theirs and starts swinging it absentmindedly.  You let your arm go limp as they do, watching them more than you know you should considering you have to remember where you’re going.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” you blurt, and immediately regret it when Frisk’s arm stills.  Their hand tenses in yours and their expression turns pensive.

After an agonizingly long moment, they reply.  “No.”  They look at the ground in front of them, and continue before you can think of how to respond.  “I think the whole idea is kind of dumb, to be honest.”

“Why?” is all you can think to say.

Frisk presses their shoulder against your chest and you release their hand in favor of wrapping your arm around them.  “Something doesn’t have to last forever to be worth it,” they reply quietly.

You rest your head on top of theirs, considering this for a long moment.  “Is it bad to want it to last forever?” you ask.

“I guess not,” they say.  “You just can’t make that the only reason you do it.  I mean... maybe the two of us _won’t_ last forever.  Maybe we won’t get married and move to the countryside and have a million babies and name them all after each-other,” they turn their head to smile up at you.  “But what we’re doing right now makes me happy.”  They punctuate their sentence by nuzzling their face back into your chest.  “That’s why I know it’s worth it.”

You smile, hugging them tighter and kissing the top of their head.  You walk the rest of the way in a comfortable silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A debate over video game ethics results in the promotion of nerd shit to second date territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. This chapter was a bitch to write.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have never played dungeons and dragons once in my entire life.
> 
> I'm sorry for all the mistakes I probably made about the rules.

[Frisk]

After a brief, only slightly awkward introduction to Chara’s parents, followed by some deliberation and a lot of short-lived runs of multiplayer games, the two of you end up playing a single player Zelda game while sharing a controller.  Chara takes the right side of the controller with most of the controls on it, but you have the side that controls where Link (or “Asshole,” as Chara named him) actually _goes_.  You end up spending a lot of time hunting butterflies, because you want to and Chara can’t help but actually catch them when you walk up to them.

“This is absurd,” mutters Chara when they open the inventory and look at your massive collection.  “What are we going to do with all of these???”

“I dunno,” you reply, sneaking up behind another one.  “What are the butterflies _for_ , anyway?”

“You don’t even-”  Chara interrupts themself to catch the butterfly.  “Why are you doing this if you don’t know what they’re for.”

“This is fun,” you reply nonchalantly, “and I don’t want to fight things.”

“You can’t play this game without fighting things, Frisk.  That isn’t how this works.”

“We just played it for two hours without fighting anything.”

“I think the butterflies die when we catch them.”

You stop dead.  “Really?”

“Yeah?  I mean, probably.”

“...I don’t think I want to play this game anymore.”

“Frisk, come on.”

“I killed them.”

“Frisk.”

“Those poor butterflies.”

“ _Frisk._ ”  The next thing you know Chara is hugging you and also poking your face to get your attention.  “It’s a game.  The butterflies aren’t real.”

“You’re still supposed to project yourself onto the character and act how you’d act in his place.  Why did I do that?  I didn’t want to kill them.”

“Frisk, the POINT of roleplay is to explore things you would never do.  I mean, hell, my D&D character is a chaotic evil _necromancer_ who’s killed like fifty people.  That doesn’t mean I’d do anything like that in real life.”

You lean into Chara, relaxing a bit and thinking about what they said while you make Asshole run around in circles on the screen.  “That reminds me, I forgot to google what D&D is.”

Chara is really quiet for about thirty seconds before they reply, “It’s a game.”

“Wow,” you say.  “That explains everything.  Thanks, Chara.”

Chara sighs.  “It’s kind of dumb.”

“More dumb than running around catching virtual butterflies for two hours?”

“Point.”  Chara pauses the game and puts the controller on the ground.  “It’s a tabletop roleplaying game.  Basically, you sit around a table and say what your characters are doing, and roll dice to see if it works and what happens next.  Asriel DMs, so he’s in charge of all the monsters and NPCs...”

“NPC?”

“Non-player character.”

“Huh.  That actually sounds really fun.”

“Do... you want to try it?”

“Sure!”

“AZZY!”

Asriel mutters from the other side of the room.  “I can hear you just fine, and the answer is no.”

“Oh, come on!  We can’t play with just two people.”

“You spent an hour this morning complaining about what an awful DM I am, and now you want me to come up with something on the spot for you and your datemate.  I have homework.”

“That essay isn’t due for like a week.”

“ _Not everyone does all their homework in a last minute panic the morning before it’s due, Chara_.”

“Okay, okay!  I take it all back!  You’re a great DM!  I’ll do your chores for a week!  What do you want!”

Asriel looks up from his book and glares at Chara.  “...A month.”

“Deal.”

* * *

[Chara]

“I roll to pet the dog,” says Frisk.

Asriel sighs, and doesn’t bother rolling any dice this time.  “You pet the dog,” he says.  “It was a good dog.”

“I roll to pet the dog.”

“I hate you.”

“But the dog?”

“You pet the dog.  It was a good dog.”

“I roll to-”

“Frisk, you have been petting this dog for almost half an hour.  Please do literally anything else.”

Frisk looks Asriel dead in the eye and intones, “I roll to pet the dog.”

Asriel meets their stare and says, “You pet the dog.  It was a good dog.”

“I roll to-”

“Suddenly,” Asriel interrupts, “a pack of wolves rushes into the clearing.  The dog flees.  You’re surrounded.  Roll initiative.”

You’re getting ready to explain to Frisk how the combat system works, but as soon as it’s clear they’ve won initiative they just say, “I roll to pet the dog.”

“What?” says Asriel.

“The wolf,” Frisk corrects.  “I pet the wolf.”

“Frisk-” you start.

“Okay,” interrupts Asriel, “Roll a D20.”

Frisk rolls.  You can see in Asriel’s eyes that he’s about to say ‘the wolf bites your hand off’ no matter what comes up.  It lands on a natural 20.

Asriel stares at it in disbelief.  Frisk smiles at him innocently.  After a long moment, he sighs and flops his head onto the table.  “You pet the dog,” he groans.  “It was a good dog.”

* * *

[Chara, two weeks later]

“You’re surrounded.”  Asriel demonstrates his point with a collection of hand drawn paper cutout figurines he places around you and Napstablook’s characters.  “Roll initiative.”

“A pack of wolves?” you say, promptly losing initiative, “Really?”

Asriel ignores you.  “Blooky, it’s your move.”

“Oh, um...”  They look nervously through their character sheet, trying to decide what to do.

“Relax,” you tell them, “It’s just wolves.  They’ve probably got like three hit points apiece.”

Napstablook uses one of the more powerful spells they know, targeting three of the fifteen or so wolves.

The wolves don’t so much as flinch.

It’s a short battle.

“Wolves.”  You mutter into the desk when Napstablook’s cleric falls unconscious and you’re out of spells.  “You’re going to TPK us with fucking wolves.”

“It’s your move, Chara.”

“Can I run?”

“Oh...” whispers Napstablook, realizing you’re about to leave them behind.

“Sorry, Blooky, I’ll come back for you.”

“Make an acrobatics check.”

You take your time on the roll, channeling whatever karmic energy you have into the die, before throwing it on the table with as much force as you can without it rocketing right back off.

Slowly, it rolls to a stop.

It’s a natural 1.

Asriel laughs and rolls some dice of his own.  “You try to leap over the pack, only to land on your face right next to one.”

“No.”

He looks up at you, grinning.  “It looks down at you, bares its teeth.”

“ _No._ ”

“It opens its mouth-”

“ _NO._ ”

“Suddenly, it stops.”

“What?”

“It tilts its head back, as though listening to something. It-”

“Wait, I’m listening, too.  Can I hear anything?”

“Roll perception.”

You roll, and apparently a 14 is high enough, because Asriel continues.

“You hear a voice you don’t recognize, calling a list of names, occasionally repeating them and saying ‘here, boy’ or ‘where are you?’”

“The wolves are trained...”

“Oh no,” says Napstablook.  “We hurt someone’s wolves, they’re probably going to be so upset...”

“WE hurt THEM??” you ask, then sigh.  “This is our chance to escape.  Do the wolves go to the person calling them?”

“Ha, no.”  Asriel leans back in his chair.  “They start barking.”

“Noooooo.”

“The voice stops briefly, then shouts ‘there you are.’  You hear the shuffling of a person entering the clearing.”

“Who is it?” whispers Napstablook, sounding apprehensive.

Asriel smirks and turns around in his chair.  “FRISK, GET IN HERE!”

“What.”

“Oh.”

The door opens and frisk skips in, beaming down at you.  Asriel shoves papers to the side to clear a space for them at the table, quickly catching them up on the situation.

“You’ve found your wolves, but they’ve found two adventurers and bested them in a fight.”

“We were not bested,” you interrupt.

“Are any of them injured?” asks Frisk, sitting down.

“The adventurers or the wolves?” says Asriel.

“The dogs,” clarifies Frisk.

“Wow, thanks,” you supply.

“Nope.”  Asriel leans forward again.  “One of the adventurers, the one being played by Blooky here, is unconscious but alive.  Chara’s character is on the ground but very much awake, and probably staring at you.”

You take a breath and remind yourself that your character doesn’t know Frisk’s character.  “They also have some questions, which they are asking.”

“Yes?” asks Frisk.

“Who the hell are you?”

Frisk takes a breath, seemingly getting into character themselves.  “I could ask the same of you.  Fluffy, bring them here.”

“The wolf grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you in front of Frisk,” supplies Asriel.  “It’s being gentle, so you only take five damage.”

“I’ve only got fifteen hit points left,” you mutter, writing it down before addressing Frisk again.  “We’re just travelers.  Let us go, we mean you no harm.”

“ _Travelers_ don’t come to these woods,” they reply.  “ _Adventurers_ do.  _Brutes_ who think everything belongs to them and anyone different from them is evil.  Thieves and murderers.  Fluffy, kill them.”

“Wait, WAIT.”

“Yes?”  Frisk glares at you, an air of icy indifference contrasting so thoroughly with how they usually are that you feel like you really did just meet a stranger.  You swallow thickly.

Asriel interjects before you think of what to say.  “Are you telling Fluffy to wait, Frisk?”

“Right, yeah.”

“I... We’ll leave, okay?”  You glance nervously between Frisk and Napstablook.  “Just let me bring my friend back to the village.  We’ll never bother you again.”

“I suppose you won’t,” says Frisk, before grabbing a pencil off the table.  “Pretend this is my staff, okay?” they whisper before regaining their air of cold indifference and pointing it squarely at your neck.  “Until you’re five levels higher and strong enough to kill us.  Give me one good reason why I should trust you.”

You stare at the pencil, trying to think like your life depends on it.  “Uh...”  Seconds pass like hours.  Frisk never breaks eye contact.  They look like they’re losing patience.  “D... doesn’t that make you just as bad as us?”

Asriel giggles.  “You’re really grasping at straws, huh?”

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“What do you mean?” asks Frisk, breaking their facade with a brief smile.

“Well, you’re mad at us for killing people, and yeah, I have killed people, but you’re about to do the same thing.”

Frisk lowers the pencil by a small degree, before their expression hardens and they raise it again.  “It’s not the same thing.”

“We’ve only killed when we thought the people we were fighting were evil.  If you’re killing to save lives... isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“You came into my woods and attacked my puppies,” they tell you, sounding hurt.

“ _Puppies_... With all due respect, _they_ attacked _us_.”

Frisk turns to Asriel after a moment.  “Is that true, Fluffy?”

Asriel covers his face with his hand.  “For the last time Frisk, Fluffy is a wolf.  He doesn’t understand human speech.”

“I know that,” says Frisk, “But my character doesn’t.”

Asriel groans and rolls a die.  “Fluffy is acting aloof.”

Frisk finally lowers the pencil.  “Can you carry your friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.  Come with me.”

* * *

[Frisk]

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that afraid in my entire life,” Chara mutters, lying under you on their couch with their face buried in your hair.  “When did you become _good_ at this?”

You laugh, and Asriel speaks up from the other side of the room before they can reply.  “We’ve been planning this for almost a week,” he says.  “I think half of that was scripted.”

“More than half,” you admit.

“Hmph.  How come _you_ get a big dramatic entrance?”

You look up at them and grin as wide as you can.  “Because I pet _wolves._ ”

Chara shoves a hand in your face, laughing.  “Does this mean you’re coming to D&D Sunday from now on?  Are we gonna start having it in the afternoons?  Wait, shouldn’t you be working now?”

“I usually have Mondays off,” you tell them, “But Muffet needs me tomorrow, so she said I could have today off instead.”  You rest your head on Chara’s chest and they start running their fingers idly through your hair.

“What’s special about tomorrow?”

Asriel speaks up again, “Oh no.  Don’t tell me you forgot _again_.”

“Forgot what?” they ask, their hand in your hair going still.

“Tomorrow is _Mothers’ Day._ ”

For a moment, Chara stops breathing.  “Fuck.  Asriel-”

“No.  You can’t piggy back on my gift again.”

“Fuck.”

Asriel sighs.  “Chara, relax.  Mom’s not gonna care if you don’t get her anything.”

“But then you’ll be the better sibling!”

“I’m already the better sibling.”

Chara sits up, a little awkwardly as you move off of them, and throws a pillow in his general direction.  It misses by three feet.  Asriel laughs.

Chara lies back down and you hug them again, trying very hard not to be jealous.  You wish you could give them advice, but you don’t know Toriel well enough to have any idea what to say.

( _Your_ mother was always personally offended every year, no matter what you got for her.)

(...No, you don’t want to think about that.)

“You okay?” asks Chara, and you nod without looking up at them.

They hug you back, more gently than they normally do, like they’re scared of hurting you.

“I’m _fine,_ ” you mutter, and they hug you a little tighter.

* * *

Mothers’ day is as busy as Muffet said it would be, but not as busy as you’d hoped.  You find yourself getting lost in thought every time there’s a lull in the crowd.  Chara and Asriel come in after school, ironically appearing right before another rush of people.   When the crowd thins, you head to their table and ask why they’re here instead of at home with Toriel.  They’re halfway through telling you when someone calls the name ‘Francis’ in the crowd and you have to remind yourself that it’s a perfectly common name and they’re not talking to you and you hate yourself a little for turning anyway.

“What’s wrong?” Asks Asriel, and you turn back to them and shrug.

“It’s nothing, I’m just a little tired.”

“You seem more anxious than tired,” says Chara, and you’re about to reply when the person repeats the name, more insistent and a lot closer, and you jump when you turn.

The person, as it turns out, _was_ addressing you.  She grins at you from a few feet away - that perfect, insincere grin you know means she’s secretly pissed.

“Francis,” she repeats, “ _there_ you are.”

You hear one of the siblings stand up behind you and you swallow, adopting an insincere grin of your own.

“Uh,” you say, trying to remember your customer service happy voice, “hi, Mom.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this is only what, four months later? have i mentioned this fic is not the easiest for me to write, and theres a reason i usually wait until ive finished them before posting? haha..  
> anyway heres the resolution to that cliffhanger i left you on

[Chara]

You’re getting ready to murder the woman standing in front of Frisk when you feel Asriel’s hand on your shoulder.  He whispers “Chara, no,” and you’re about to tell him to fuck off when he continues, “just get Muffet, okay?  This is her shop, she can kick her out.”

With that, he walks in front of you to greet the woman with his practiced grin, placing himself almost between her and Frisk and introducing himself.  You hear snippets of their conversation as you head toward the kitchen.

“How did you find me?” asks Frisk at one point, sounding uncomfortable.

When you reach the kitchen and find Muffet, she turns to look at you with an expression that goes quickly from confused to upset.  You decide not to wait for her to ask what you’re doing in the employees-only section of the shop.

“There’s a, uh, problem.” you stutter, pointing lamely at the door and trying not to look as intimidated as you are.  You wonder for a brief moment if Frisk is out to her before remembering their nametag and continuing, “There’s a person who keeps misgendering Frisk and they’re too nice to tell her to go away and-”

“I see,” interrupts Muffet, placing a tray of muffin batter into the oven and setting a timer.  “Thank you for telling me, dearie.  I’ll be out in a bit.”

There’s no arguing with Muffet, so you vacate the kitchen and head back towards Frisk and Asriel and Whatever The Hell Her Name Is.

Frisk’s nametag is conspicuously missing when you arrive.

“A mother should be with her children on Mother’s Day,” says Frisk’s ‘mother.’

“I was going to call you after my shift,” mutters Frisk, looking extremely small.

“But when were you planning on visiting?”

“I...”

Asriel tries to interject and is promptly ignored.  You decide to take the stage.

“What’s up fucks?” you announce, projecting your voice as though on stage and draping an arm around Frisk’s shoulders.  Their face goes bright red, but they don’t push you away.  Their ‘mom’ looks at you like she stepped in something and you grin widely back at her.  “I don’t think we’ve met,” you say, extending a hand in greeting, “I’m Chara, resident pain in the ass.”

“Um, that’s nice,” she says, looking as though she’d really rather not touch you.  She doesn’t take your hand.  “If you don’t mind, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

“And I was in the middle of introducing myself,” you say, not relaxing your grin, still holding out your hand.  “What?  Are you too good to shake my hand?  Come on, don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”

She makes a disgusted noise and takes your hand, which you shake as vigorously as you can.  She’s starting to look like she’d rather be somewhere else.

“Francis,” she says when you release her hand, “ _this_ is the kind of person you’ve been associating with?”

“Oh hell no,” you reply before Frisk can.  “Trust me, lady, they’d get rid of me in a heartbeat if they could.”

“Don’t say that,” says Frisk.  “Chara’s actually really nice!  They’re just... bad at first impressions.”

“Uh huh,” says the pseudo-mom.  “And I take it you’re also a ‘non-binary.’”  She makes finger quotes as she says it.  Your smile falls.

You turn to Frisk and whisper loud enough that she can hear, “Would you be sad if she died?”

“Chara!”  Frisk _does_ push you away for that, and you have to stop yourself from using your newfound freedom to take the knife out of your pocket and stab her.

Luckily for everyone involved, Muffet shows up then, wearing her perfect creepy smile and staring unblinkingly at the woman posing as Frisk’s mother.

“Frisk, dearie~”

“Oh,” Frisk notices her presence and moves so they can talk to both women at once.  “This is my boss, Muffet.  Muffet, this is my mom.”

Muffet gives you a brief _look_ before returning her gaze to Frisk’s former legal guardian.  “It’s nice to meet you,” she says, “but I think it’s time for Frisk to get back to work.”

“Oh, of course,” says the former parental figure.  “This can wait until _Francis’_ shift is over.”

“Actually, if I’m not mistaken, in coming here you’re in violation of a restraining order.”  Muffet’s grin widens, somehow.  “I’ll have you know I take the safety of my employee very seriously.  Now,” she takes a step forward and pulls out her cell phone, turning it over in one hand like one would a knife, “are you going to _leave_ , or do I have to get the authorities involved?”

The pseudo-parental-figure goes pale, scowls, and barks “call me” at Frisk before storming out the front door.  The bell dings harmlessly behind her.

Everyone lets out the breath they were holding, except Muffet, who affectionately ruffles Frisk’s hair and says, “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

* * *

[Frisk]

“How did you know?” you ask Muffet before you can even think about accepting her offer.

“About what?”

“The restraining order.”

She takes her hand out of your hair for a moment to stretch.  “Sans told me,” she says, “I hope you don’t mind my bringing it up.  People like that ought to know when they aren’t welcome.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you don’t.  Chara hugs you from behind and you turn around to hug them back.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into their chest.

“Oh don’t you fucking dare,” they tell you, resting their chin on your head.  “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“Hey, that was actually pretty good for you,” interjects Asriel.  “You held off on the death threats for a whole three minutes!”

You can’t help but laugh at that, but it doesn’t come out quite right.  Chara hugs you a little tighter.

“Do you want to come with us?” they ask.  “We’re gonna have cake this time, I think.”

“I thought your mom was a pie person.”

Chara shrugs.  “Thought we’d mix things up.  It’s harder to accidentally poison cake.”

“No it... isn’t?” Asriel points out, and you snicker with laughter.

“Alright,” you say, “but I’m letting you have the first bite.”

“That’s fair,” Chara mutters back.

* * *

Before long you’re situated on a stool overlooking the kitchen while Chara and Asriel attempt to bake a cake.  They’re doing everything wrong, but you’re far too entertained by their bickering at each other to correct them.  Also, you’re curious how long it’ll take them to remember you work at a bakery and actually know most of this stuff.

“Add the flour mixture,” Chara reads from the recipe, and Asriel dumps it into the bowl before they finish, “slowly, stirring as you go.”

“Ah.”

“Ok, uh.  Let’s just...”  Chara takes a measuring cup and tries to scoop the flour out of the bowl and back to the first mixing bowl, managing to spill a fair amount onto the counter.

“Hold up,” Asriel stops them.  “We can just stir it in now.  That can’t be all that important.”

You interject, “Only if you want it to stay in the bowl.”

“Well Chara’s spilling it everywhere anyway!  Let’s just stir it in.”

“Fine!” exclaims Chara, “You do it!”

“I will!  Dump it back in.”

Chara returns the four mixture to the bowl and Asriel starts stirring it as slowly as he can - still covering the counter with a thin layer of flour.  Chara goes back to reading the recipe.  “Shit, we were supposed to keep the egg whites.”

“Oh my GOD.”

“Are we out of eggs?”

“We used SIX of them, Chara!”

“Okay!  I guess I’m going to the store!  Do we need anything else?”

“Box cake mix.”

“Very funny.  Frisk, you wanna come?”

“I think I’ll stay here in case Asriel needs someone to argue with.”

Asriel points his spoon at you angrily.  “The LAST thing I need is another person to argue with.  Go be cute or whatever.”

* * *

“So how long do we have again?” you ask on the way home with a fresh carton of eggs.

“Dad said they’d be home around seven, so we probably have until seven-thirty.”

“Do they always go out together on mothers’ day?”

“Usually.  I think they go to the same place every year, too, but they never actually told us where that is.”

“Maybe they’re fighting crime,” you joke.

“Honestly, that would explain a lot.”  Chara takes your hand and swings it a little while you walk.  “How are you doing?” they ask after a bit.

“Better,” you reply, leaning against them.

“I’m... sorry, for saying what I did back there.  Not that she didn’t _deserve_ it, but you were trying to be civil and I ruined it, so I’m sorry.”

It takes you a minute to decide how to respond.  You’re not mad, but...  “She _didn’t_ deserve it,” you mutter.  “I... she wasn’t the _best_ mom, but it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was restraining-order bad.  I’m no expert but that’s pretty fucking bad.”

You pull away from them slightly, not letting go of their hand.  “There’s more to it than that,” is all you can think to say.

“Seems pretty simple to me,” Chara says bitterly, and you pull your hand away.

You walk in silence for a moment before saying quietly, “I should call her soon.  My shift would’ve been up five minutes ago.”

“Seriously?” asks Chara.  “Why?”

“It’s _mother’s day._   The first one since I moved out.  I should at least...”

“You don’t owe her anything,” interrupts Chara.  “You don’t have to talk to her when you don’t want to.  You’re allowed to cut people out of your life.”

“I don’t want to cut her out.”  You look very intently at your feet, not wanting to see Chara’s expression.  “She’s my _mom_.”

* * *

[Chara]

You walk back into the kitchen and place the eggs on the table as hard as you can without breaking them.  Asriel looks up from the pan he’s coating in butter and asks, “Where’s Frisk?”

“Outside, on the phone with their _Mom_ ,” you reply bitterly, cracking open an egg and starting to separate it.

Asriel goes back to what he was doing.  “So now you’re angry because...”

“That bitch doesn’t deserve them!  She made Frisk feel like shit back there and now _they’re_ feeling guilty over not calling her or whatever.  I mean, you saw the way she treated them.”

“She’s an objectively terrible person,” Asriel replies cooly, “and it’s _Frisk’s_ decision whether to talk to her.  Not yours.”

“But they don’t want to!  They feel like they _have_ to just ‘cause it’s Mother’s Day.”

“ _Somehow_ I think it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

You sigh, cracking another egg and accidentally getting the yolk into the bowl of whites.  You curse under your breath and try to fish it out with your fingers without breaking it.  “That just makes it worse,” you mutter.  “They always try to win you back; act like they give a shit about you...”

“Chara...”

“Frisk deserves better than that.”

“I know.”  Asriel sighs and starts pouring the batter into the pan.  “But if they’re not ready to cut her out, they’re not ready.”

“I’m glad my old parents never tried this shit,” you mutter.

“You cried for a week,” replies Asriel, pointing at you accusingly with the wooden spoon.  “You still _wanted_ to think they cared about you, and you hated them for dropping the act once they knew they’d lost.”

“It was better than this!  I was sad for a week and then I was _over_ it.”  You manage to get the yolk out and throw it into the trash can at full force before washing your hands.  “Frisk doesn’t need this kind of drama in their life.”

“They chose to associate with _you_ , and you’re the most dramatic person I know.”

“Hey, fuck you.”

Asriel sighs, tossing the pan into the oven.  “It’s _their_ choice, Chara.  If Frisk wants your advice they’ll come to you.”

“But what if they make the wrong choice?” you grumble.  Asriel punches you in the arm and you drop an egg on the ground.  “OW - Hey!”

“You know where I stand,” he mutters, leaving the kitchen without another word.

* * *

You finish making the frosting on your own and realize after you’ve finished that Asriel forgot to set the timer on the cake.  You stick the bowl of frosting in the refrigerator and set it for ten minutes - you’ll just check it regularly until it’s done.  You head back to the living room and sit down.  You’ll clean up later.

Frisk enters after a minute, holding their cell phone to their ear.  “Mhm.  I will.  Love you too, Mom.  Bye.”  They hang up and flop dramatically on top of you with an exasperated sigh.

“How’d it go?” you ask, resting a hand on their arm and silently bracing yourself.

Frisk groans quietly and rolls over to face you.  “You don’t get to be smug,” they mutter.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply.  Frisk hugs you and mutters unintelligibly into your chest. You hold back a laugh.  “Didn’t catch that,” you say instead.

Frisk looks up momentarily.  “It’s like... it doesn’t even matter what I say to her.  Nothing changes.”  They sigh again, resting their head back on your chest.  “I thought we’d be on equal terms now.”

“If only,” you mutter.

After a moment of silence, Frisk looks up again and meets your eyes with an expression of solemn determination.  “Also,” they say, “for the record, I don’t regret calling her.”  They rest their head again and continue.  “I’m _going_ to make this work.  I just... wish it was easier.”


End file.
